


for life

by kermitwashingtonlincon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Crowley Has Freckles, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Flowers, Gen, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Lovers in Heaven, M/M, Mutual Pining, OVER 6000 years of pining, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage, The Garden of Eden, War in Heaven (Good Omens), Whump, Wingfic, but only sometimes, eventually. - Freeform, its like lowkey a soulmate au shbhfah, so does aziraphale dbahjjv, uhhh kinda graphic in chapter four but not really??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 00:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kermitwashingtonlincon/pseuds/kermitwashingtonlincon
Summary: Almost every angel in Heaven has another angel with matching wings to them, Aziraphale just found his.





	1. swans

**Author's Note:**

> ive had this au idea in my brain for like two months kajbkahs also i finished another fic like. two days ago but im just a machine my dudes

The Principality Aziraphale was very glad that She had assigned him a general job in Earth’s design, his task was mostly to wander around Heaven and find angels that needed help making flowers or animals or sea creatures (though Aziraphale preferred to stay away from the sea creatures, they could be quite frightening). On this particular day, if one could call it a day, Heaven hardly had a concept of time, Aziraphale was helping an angel named Beelzebub craft an insect.  
“I just- can’t get it right,” they bristled, if their wings had feathers, they would be puffed up, instead the wings buzzed angrily.  
“It’s alright, here you just have to,” Aziraphale took the small creature from Beelzebub’s fingers, “Your nails are just a bit too short, is all,” Aziraphale used his nail to make a small slit in the insect’s side, and slipped a wing that was a perfect imitation of Beelzebub’s inside, and then did the same to the other side. Beelzebub thanked him and blew onto the insect, their breath grew silvery and a buzzing could be heard.  
“I think we should call it a ‘fly’,” Beelzebub said as their creation landed on their face, “It’s the first one other than the birds to fly.”  
“What about those, oh what were they called?” Aziraphale searched his head for a word, “The bats! Those.”  
“I thought those were birds?” Beelzebub tilted their head and shrugged, “Well, this flies, so it will be a fly.” They weren’t wrong, it did fly. Aziraphale bid the angel a goodbye and walked to the center of flowers, the smell overtook him and he gravitated towards the lilies. He wanted to help with the roses but Uriel had said that they didn’t like the colors he was picking, he thought the salmon suited them better than red, but he didn’t disobey.  
Aziraphale sat next to the angel very delicately painting a lily with pink spots, “Hello Aziraphale,” the angel said and finished a final dot on the center of the flower.  
“Hello Gabriel,” Aziraphale chirped, “Need any help?”  
“I think I can handle it myself,” Gabriel fluttered his wings, to shoo him away, wings Aziraphale had attached to a bird a while ago, the humans would call it a bald eagle. Aziraphale nodded and walked away, he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t envious of Gabriel’s wings, or the wings of the other archangels.  
Aziraphale knew that almost every angel had wings to match another angel, some didn’t, like Beelzebub or Lucifer. The archangels all had matching wings, different types of eagles, they all had a brotherly bond, there were two angels with the wings of blue-jays that couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Someone had said to Aziraphale that the wings were given to them all by Her, that She knew which angels would be lovers and which would become family. Supposedly, if one had matching wings to one other angel, the two were destined to be lovers, in groups of three or more (the largest group Aziraphale had seen was six, almost all of the archangels) would grow an unbreakable brotherhood.  
“What if they don’t match with anyone?” Aziraphale had asked the angel that gave him this information.  
“I heard,” the angel leaned in, “That they will never know Her love and be banished from Heaven.” Aziraphale decidedly did not tell this angel that he hadn’t found a wing partner, he dismissed this idea as ridiculous, just rumors. That angel shouldn’t be spreading rumors, anyways.  
At this point, quite a few angels had grown tired of Aziraphale’s help, because he spent the whole time talking about how excited he was for Earth, how he just wanted to go down there, stand with his bare feet on the grass and feel the sun he’d been hearing so much about. He would never admit this, but Aziraphale didn’t like how empty Heaven was, he often felt exposed walking down the long white halls, and the floors were always so cold. Aziraphale wrapped his white wings around himself, brushing the long, waxy, feathers.  
The texture of his feathers left something to be desired, but they would apparently have water slide right off them, not many other angels could say that, it was something to be at least a bit proud of. And Aziraphale would admit, he did like the bird he’d put his wings on, Sandalphon said it’s neck was too long, so Aziraphale made it longer, just to spite him. Swans were the first and last thing Aziraphale had been allowed to make on his own, the overseeing angels nearly didn’t let the birds down, but an archangel had vouched for them, nobody ever told Aziraphale which one, though.

Eventually, Aziraphale found himself somewhere he hadn’t been before, it looked like a work in progress Eden. He shouldn’t be here, it didn’t look like anyone should be here.  
“Hello?” that was Michael, she could probably be here. Panicking, Aziraphale let his wings lift him up past the trees, which looked nice if he did say so himself, then he hit the ceiling. He didn’t know Heaven had a ceiling, but it was there, it has to end somewhere, he supposed. Aziraphale began to fly back which way he came, looking at the ground instead of in front of him, a fatal flaw as he’d been told. But nobody flew too often in Heaven, let alone this high up. Except, apparently, one angel, who he bumped face-first into.  
If Aziraphale had been standing, his knees would have given out beneath him at the sight of the angel in front of him.  
Aziraphale had never seen an angel with red hair before, and this angel had enough red hair for two other angels probably, but it would be a shame if he were to cut it. The stranger angel brushed a copper lock from his face, and oh was it a very nice face. His freckles (which was another thing Aziraphale had never seen an angel with) were the same gold as his eyes.  
“Are you alright?” Aziraphale fretted, the red-headed angel adjusted the scrolls overflowing in his arms, Aziraphale had probably knocked some loose in the collision.  
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, just a lot of things to carry.”  
“I can help, if you’d like,” Aziraphale offered, the other angel shook his head, “Oh don’t worry, all the other angels are tired of my company already, I won’t be missing out on anything,” he opened his arms and scrolls were dropped into them. The angels flew back the way Aziraphale came and swooped down to a small door with a large white curtain. The curtain parted for the two of them and they walked into complete darkness, something Aziraphale didn’t know existed.  
“Say, what’s your name?”  
“Aziraphale. How about you?”  
“Raphael,” there was a sound of the shuffling of heavenly fabric as Raphael searched for something.  
“Let there be light!” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and his wings glowed at the feather tips, he held them over Raphael. His eyes and freckles glinted in the holy light, and then he found what he was looking for. Raphael took a candle from a desk and blew onto it, a flame burst from it and thousands- no, billions of similar lights lit up around the room. Raphael beamed with pride and Aziraphale let his wing’s glow dim, he breathed out, even though he didn’t need to.  
“What are these?” Aziraphale asked, he fluttered up to one of the lights, like a tiny candle’s flame, but no wick.  
“I’m calling them stars,” Raphael took a star into his hand and fanned out his long fingers, the flame grew and Aziraphale saw it wasn’t a flame at all. It was just a ball of pure white light, but not the same white light that was everywhere in heaven. This light put off heat, and tiny bits of the light flew off of it and floated around for a few seconds before dying out.  
“Did you make them?” Aziraphale reached for a star himself, it glowed brighter with glee and grew in his hand. The love put into making it was so present that it was almost overwhelming. Almost.  
Raphael put the star in his hand into Aziraphale’s, the stars began to rotate each other, “I did make them. All by myself.”  
“Are they all done?”  
“Not nearly, these are just a tiny fragment of what I have planned. Look,” Raphael swooped down to his table and turned on a light, detailed plans of the heavens sat there, drawn-out with care and precision in thin, golden, lines. Raphael pointed to a glowing ball, “This is going to be the moon. I’m about to start working on it.”  
“Could I help?” Aziraphale asked, he needed something to do, and Raphael would certainly be an interesting angel to work with.  
“Of course you can!”

Aziraphale and Raphael spent some amount of time making the moon, it could have been a few hours or weeks, but however long it was it was the best time of Aziraphale’s life thus far. Raphael shared Aziraphale’s excitement for Earth, and the two of them waxed on about the things they’d made. After a while, Aziraphale realized that he didn’t even know what status Raphael was at, he must rank highly if he was allowed to spend all this time by himself.  
“What rank are you?” Aziraphale asked one day, “Apologies if that’s rude, I just haven’t seen you until recently.”  
“Archangel,” he straightened his white robe, revealing the pin hidden under a fold, “You must be a Virtue, you’re pretty enough to be one.”  
Aziraphale blushed, “I’m a Principality. I used to be a Cherubim, though.”  
“How could they demote you? You’re wonderful.”  
“Oh. Thank you. I try not to ask questions,” Aziraphale sighed, “I think it’s a bit easier that way. Perhaps it just fits my personality more.”  
“Well, I heard Principalities are going to be allowed to visit Earth. Gabriel told me so,” Raphael fluttered his white wings.  
Aziraphale looked at both of their wings for a moment before asking, “Why don’t you have eagle’s wings like the rest of the Archangels?”  
“I’m glad I don’t, I wouldn’t like to be forced to hang out with them,” Raphael laughed, “I have the wings of some bird called a swan. Really pretty, I think. Some other angel designed them and they almost didn’t let them get approved! I might be a little biased, but I really like the swans. I don’t pull out the Archangel card much, but it felt appropriate.”  
“You have swans wings?” Aziraphale stammered.  
“Yes, I do. What have you got? Doves?”  
Aziraphale walked closer to Raphael as if this was a secret, and as if anyone else was around to hear them, “I designed the swan. It’s my wings,” he said softly.  
“Look at that! We match! Destined to be together,” Raphael rubbed his wings against Aziraphale’s and grinned. Aziraphale told his companion about what that other angel had told him, and the redhead only laughed, “Guess we don’t have to worry about then, now do we?”  
“I suppose not,” Aziraphale, emboldened by the word ‘together’ reached for Raphael’s hand, he took it. Raphael’s hands were very warm, which was a bit strange, since most angel’s blood was room temperature, sometimes colder, thus giving them no warmth or coolness to the touch. Aziraphale added this to the list of reasons Raphael was different from other angels, right beneath ‘is kind to me’.

Eventually, Aziraphale had to leave the star-filled room to assist other angels, Raphael promised he would wait until Aziraphale was back to resume work on the moon. Aziraphale found himself painting apples, he made this one a perfect, shining red to bring back to Raphael, even if the two of them needn’t eat. Gabriel slapped the apple from Aziraphale’s hand.  
“This one is off-limits,” the Archangel glared with his purple eyes, “Take an orange.”  
“Sorry, Gabriel. I didn’t know.”  
“Add that to the list,” Sandalphon whispered, quiet enough that a being that was not ethereal wouldn’t have heard, and Aziraphale pretended he did not hear it.


	2. red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael loses a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little uh angsty ah ha ha

Raphael waited for Aziraphale to return to keep working on the moon, he couldn’t bring himself to break even a tiny promise, and at this point, the moon felt like a dual project. Even if Aziraphale probably only actually worked on forty percent of it, the other sixty percent felt like a twenty when you were listening to Aziraphale go on and on about whatever it was that he liked.

“Raphael,” Michael entered the dark room, her halo glowed angrily, if a glow could be angry, “You’re late.”  
“For what?” Raphael hadn’t heard of anything he could be late for, not that anyone would invite him someplace. Even with that, Heaven didn’t have time, if this was something going to be added, Raphael didn’t like it.  
“She’s going to speak to us,” Michael jerked her head desperately in the direction of the door, “Fix your robes, you look like a slob,” Raphael grumbled and straightened his robes, pinning his Archangel badge on top, it wasn’t like anyone but the Seraphims and the Archangel Fucking Gabriel actually showed off their badges.  
Raphael was dragged to the Archangel’s place in the grand hall in the center of Heaven, if Heaven had a center, luckily, Principalities were only a rank away from Archangels, so they were able to mingle a bit. Aziraphale caught Raphael’s attention and he waved the Principality over, he sat down and Raphael’s pinky finger found itself intertwined with Aziraphale’s, completely of its own accord. Aziraphale had been working in the flowers by the smell of him.  
Raphael leaned into Aziraphale, “You smell nice,” he whispered, hoping it wouldn’t come off as creepy.  
“It’s called lavender,” Aziraphale said proudly, another Principality, Hastur, slapped Aziraphale’s thigh and hushed the both of them.  
Raphael had seen The Almighty once in his life, all the angels had, but only on the day they were created, though the Seraphims claimed to meet with Her often. Whenever other angels described Her, each description was different, but there was no doubt in anybody’s mind that they were telling the truth. The hall buzzed with excitement, they were going to see their mother again. Silver light flooded the hall, casting long shadows (something most of the angels had never seen before) across the floor, angels all resisted the urge to cover their eyes, for fear they might miss Her.  
Only, instead of The Almighty, a short and stout man with a saggy face appeared before them. He didn’t really have a body, but somehow you could tell he would only come to Raphael’s shoulder if they were standing next to each other if the man was the size of a man. His head was nearly the size of the moon, or at least it looked like it from here.  
“I am the Metatron, the voice of The Almighty,” he said, his voice didn’t quite come from his mouth, more like it was already in your head.  
“We were told She would be speaking to us,” a Power named Beelzebub called, quickly hushed by the angel next to them.  
“To speak to me, is to speak to God. For me to speak is for The Almighty to speak,” the Metatron boomed. Nobody asked another question. “I am here to deliver instructions for Earth.” The angels whispered unintelligibly, and most of their eyes roll back in their heads, including Aziraphale's. Those that this did not happen to, looked at each other in confusion, the Powers Beelzebub and Dagon shot Raphael confused looks. Raphael leaned over Michael’s shoulder to shake Lucifer, the closest angel to him that was conscious, but he looked like he was about to faint.  
“Lucifer,” Raphael hissed, “What’s going on?” Lucifer stood up, holding his wings out for balance, shaking as if he was walking on eggshells.  
“She knows,” Lucifer said, before Raphael could respond, the Archangel dropped down into the ground, marble splashing like water around him, Lucifer flailed his arms and choked for air, his face began to go blue. Raphael leaped up to grab his friend, he was the only Archangel he even got along with. In an attempt to pull him up without getting his arms scratched up by Lucifer’s long nails, Raphael grabbed his robe, only for it to come off of his body as if he had become liquid. He reached for Lucifer’s hand, he was scratching so hard at the liquid marble his palms had grown red with blood, the blood was hot like it was about to boil, it sizzled upon making contact with the cold ground.  
“Lucifer,” Raphael felt tears rush down his face, they immediately sizzled on Lucifer’s skin, making him screech in pain, he started to cry as well. The tears weren’t silver anymore, and it burned to touch them. Beelzebub was next to them now, and they began pushing Lucifer down. “What are you doing?” Raphael cried.  
“Getting rid of him,” Dagon said, and helped her fellow Power. Lucifer finally sunk into the floor and it solidified over him, burns on the once perfect ground where his blood had spilt. His red blood. Angels didn’t have red blood, let alone hot, red blood. Angels had cold, silver blood. The unconscious angels rose, as if nothing had happened, Raphael sank to the floor and let out a sob.  
“Where did Lucifer go?” Gabriel asked.  
Beelzebub wiped away a silver tear, “He sank into the floor. Didn’t you see?”  
“I was asleep. I dreamed about what I need to do for the next year before we start Earth,” Gabriel said, “Didn’t you?”  
“Gabriel, some of us didn’t fall asleep,” Dagon told him.  
“What’s up with Raphael?” Michael said and tapped Raphael with her foot.  
Raphael wiped a tear away, “He was my friend.” Raphael felt Aziraphale’s hand on his shoulder, he picked up Lucifer’s robes and clung the soft fabric between his fingers, the two of them walked back to the star room, Aziraphale with one wing wrapped firmly over Raphael’s heaving shoulders.  
“It’s alright dear, I’m here. That will never happen to you,” Aziraphale clung to Raphael for dear life, “I swear to the Lord I won’t let that happen,” he kissed Raphael’s forehead.  
“Aziraphale?”  
“Hm?”  
“What if that does happen to me? I didn’t get instructions,” he pressed into Aziraphale’s chest, robes stained with silver.  
“Then I will go with you, of course,” Aziraphale braided Raphael’s hair absentmindedly.  
“No. You don’t deserve it. You’ll stay here and I will come find you, alright?”  
Aziraphale sighed, “Alright, but it won’t happen anyway.”  
“I’ll still find you,” Raphael felt tears well up in his eyes again, “I’m always gonna find you.”  
“Of course you will.”

Neither of them left the room for the next week, after a few days Raphael was fine, he just wanted to be held. Work on the moon had to resume at some point, they only had a year now, so they started back to work.  
“The moon is too smooth, we should add some texture,” Aziraphale said one day when the moon’s surface was done. Raphael backed up and flew right into it, creating a crater. “Raphael!” Raphael continued crashing into the moon’s surface until he had made a very vague heart shape.  
“There’s some texture for you,” he beamed and rubbed his shoulder, “My head hurts.”  
Aziraphale cupped his face, “That’s what you get for slamming yourself into a giant rock repeatedly, my dear boy. You could have just used miracles, look,” Aziraphale snapped his fingers a new crater appeared in the moon.  
“Nah, not as fun that way.”  
“You’re insufferable.”  
“But we’re bonded by The Almighty. What’s that word you like to use?” Raphael thought for a moment through all of Aziraphale’s ramblings, “It’s ineffable!”  
The rest of the day was spent making pictures on the surface of the moon until it was thoroughly textured. Aziraphale went on about what he was going to be doing for the next year, he said that Raphael disappeared in the second half of it, they both assumed it was him getting busier with Archangel duties. The two of them assured each other that when Earth was up and running they’d go down their together.  
The nature of their relationship was still unspoken, neither of them knew what they would say if they were to announce it, so they said nothing. They held hands a lot, sometimes they would sleep, even though the didn’t need to, and lay on top of one another. It became common for Aziraphale to lure Crowley out of the star room and go work on the plants and animals.  
“Look what I’ve made,” Raphael proudly presented a long scaly thing.  
“We already have those, they’re called worms,” the Principality Hastur said.  
“No this is different, it’s called a snake. It’s scaly and it eats mice and things,” Raphael stroked the snake’s head, it hissed happily. Sabdalphon and his rodents he’d based on his image shifted down the table, Raphael stuck his tongue out at them.  
“Don’t do that, it’s unbecoming,” Aziraphale said, fixing another eye on some strange bug.  
“It’s unbecoming,” Raphael mocked, earning a slap on the arm from the other angel.

Then it was time to get back to the stars, most of them had already been made, but Raphael and Aziraphale were working on this particular pair together, they were going to orbit each other forever. Raphael kissed the star Aziraphale had made, and Aziraphale kissed Raphael’s. Taking the two stars in his hands, Raphael blew golden dust on the two of them and squeezed them together for a moment.  
“If we ever lose each other, we’ll meet back at these stars,” Raphael said and set the stars free into the sky.  
“Rendezvous point number one,” Aziraphale smiled, and oh was it a sweet smile. Raphael just wanted desperately to run his hands through those perfect blonde ringlet curls and kiss Aziraphale senseless.  
Rumors started to spread about a few Powers and Principalities trying to start something, a Virtue might have even been in on it. Heaven had never been filled with whispers or paranoia, there were now shadows to lurk in, and corners that were sharper than they were before. The only time anyone felt truly safe was amongst their wing families, and even then it was constantly looking over your shoulder.  
One day, or night, because those had begun recently, Raphael woke up, a rare occurrence on his own accord, he was laying on top of Aziraphale in his hammock in the star room, wings wrapped around him. Raphael gingerly lifted his wings and rose from the hammock to land on the cold ground below.  
“Raphael, come here,” a voice buzzed, Raphael turned to Beelzebub. He hadn’t seen Beelzebub in days, and they looked awful. Their black hair was an absolute mess, dark circles had appeared under their eyes and they were hunched over, wings in a position ready to fly at a moment's notice.  
“Are you alright? You look awful,” Raphael took a step towards the small angel, they flinched away.  
“Gee, thanks,” Beelzebub rolled their veiny eyes and lowered their voice, “We’ve been talking with Lucifer-”  
“You contacted him? Is he okay? What happened?”  
“Shut your mouth and listen. Yes, we’ve contacted him, and he is perfectly alright,” Beelzebub sat down and crossed their legs, they looked like they needed it, Raphael sat next to them.  
“Who is ‘we’?”  
“Me and some other angels, we’re gonna go to Her and demand Lucifer gets his grace back.”  
Raphael gasped, “He lost his grace?”  
“Yes, do keep up, Raph,” said Hastur behind him, Raphael gasped and gripped his chest. Hastur laughed in a way one could only describe as akin to a growl.  
Raphael stood up, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I don’t want any part in it. I’m going back to bed.”  
“Oh, but Raphael, you’re already part of it,” Hastur scowled, “You were a bystander just like us when Lucifer drowned. That’s worthy of exile, I would say.”  
A Principality named Ligur popped up from behind a column, “I agree,” he growled, “Didn’t do anything, just watched him drown.”  
“I am going back to sleep, you can all lose your graces. But I have Aziraphale,” Raphael stormed off and flew back into the hammock, gripping Aziraphale a little tighter. Eventually, he fell back into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have all these headcanons about angelic and demonic blood that i wanna get into later


	3. silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Raphael work on Saturn and things go awry in Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gets a lil angsty at the end sorry in advance

Aziraphale woke up with Raphael squirming in his sleep, eyebrows pressed together with teeth bared. Did angels have dreams? Must do, since Raphael was obviously having one, Aziraphale hugged his wings tight around the other angel and ran a hand through his hair. After a moment he settled down and Aziraphale was able to relax.

“Get up, you two,” Gabriel shook their hammock, “Work to be done.”

“Sorry,” Aziraphale rubbed Raphael’s shoulder, still not waking up, “Raphael,” he whispered and ran a hand down his back, earning a twitch when Aziraphale reached the base of Raphael’s wings. Aziraphale squeezed on the base of his left wing, the freckled angel immediately jerked awake. “Sorry, dear boy, but we have to get up. We have to work on Saturn.” Raphael grumbled but rolled from the hammock and fell gracelessly to the floor.

It took nearly a week to complete Saturn’s rings, they just couldn’t figure out how to get them to stay up, it was Aziraphale who thought of using the frozen water to hold them all together. Saturn grew to its full size to add finishing details, Aziraphale landed on an icy ring and slipped, catching himself with his wings. Raphael landed next to him and started gliding around on the ice, propelling himself with his wings.

“Show off,” Aziraphale brought himself to his feet, shaking like the baby deer he’d made a while back. “How do you do that?”

Raphael slid over to Aziraphale and took his hands, “Just spread your feet out like this,” the other angel instructed. Aziraphale did just that and he found a balance, Raphael took off, dragging Aziraphale with him, all around the rings, laughing. The two of them didn’t often hold hands, only if they were going someplace with a large crowd and didn’t want to get lost. But there wasn’t anyone else here, it was just the two of them and the heavens they’d made together. Raphael went backward, Aziraphale dragged behind him, eye contact only broken when they needed to blink or they smiled so wide their eyes squeezed shut on their own.

Raphael held his wings straight out and brought himself to a complete stop, Aziraphale didn’t have time to do the same and crashed right into Raphael’s chest, and they both went warm in the face. 

Aziraphale found himself wrapping his arms around Raphael’s hips and reaching his hands up the other angel’s back, resting them between his wings. The two of them told themselves that this was only for support, Aziraphale had trouble balancing was all. Raphael’s wings wrapped around the two of them, making a tiny shell around them, Aziraphale completed the shell with his own wings, the tips of their feathers lacing around each other.

It wasn’t as if angels didn’t have relationships with one another, it wasn’t like it was a secret that angels hugged and kissed and made love. But this felt different somehow, like this should be a secret, not because it was a bad thing, but because Aziraphale only wanted this moment to him and Raphael. Aziraphale stood a bit taller to meet his face with Raphael’s, Raphael leaned down and carded his long fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. 

The first kiss was a bit awkward, admittedly, but nonetheless enjoyable. The second and third were wonderful and the  _ fourth _ . Raphael reached his hands around the small of Aziraphale’s back, pulling him close. His grip was gentle enough that if Aziraphale wanted to, he could free himself. But Aziraphale did not want to, his hands moved to the base of Raphael’s wings, toying absentmindedly at the downy feathers there. Raphael sighed and gripped Aziraphale tighter, he could feel the muscles in Raphael’s wings working as they left solid ground. Aziraphale flapped his own wings and let himself out of Raphael’s embrace. Raphael flew in circles around Aziraphale, gliding along the air, hair blowing in that beautiful face of his.

Aziraphale would have previously called the way Raphael carries himself unholy, the way his hips swing when he walks, how he was constantly twisting his hair around his fingers, and the drawl in his voice when they were alone. But as he studied Raphael’s moving freely, without blushing and looking away when Raphael noticed him gawking, he could see everything holy about him. Raphael was one of Her finer works, Aziraphale decided. The blonde angel flew to his companion and planted another kiss on his lips.

“Five,” Raphael said, and leaned in again, “Six.”

“Are you counting?”

“I’ll tally it on the wall. Been waiting over a year to do it, I would like to keep track.”

“My dear boy, we only met a few months ago,” Aziraphale kissed his forehead.

Raphael lowered himself to the ground, “But I saw you before then. I hope that when the humans depict angels, they only make you because you’re the only one that matters.”

Aziraphale landed on the ground as well, trying to hide his blush in the darkness, “When did you see me for the first time?”

“I saw you learning how to fly, I thought it was pretty funny, never heard of an angel that couldn’t- Aziraphale? You alright?”

“I was _re-_learning. I was able to fly plenty well until I was,” Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to say it, “Until I was- _ demoted _ .” Aziraphale hugged his arms around himself, running a finger along his back where a second set of wings had been, “I was a Cherubim, remember? Thrones and higher have two sets of wings,” he trailed off.

“Aziraphale, can I-” Raphael walked around to Aziraphale’s back, “Can I see?” Aziraphale shrugged the top of his robe away, covering his chest with the wings he still had. He flinched as Raphael ran a hand over the scar tissue, he rubbed it lightly with his thumb and a warmth spread over Aziraphale’s back.

“Don’t try to miracle them away, it won’t work,” Aziraphale said, “Even if it would, they’re a reminder for me,” his voice cracked.

“A reminder of what, though?” Raphael put Aziraphale’s robe back on with reverence, walking back around and gripping his hand.

Aziraphale rubbed his eyes, hands coming back silver, “Of something _wrong_ I did.”

“You’re an angel, you can’t do anything  _ wrong _ ,” Raphael assured, “She’s wrong for doing that to you anyways.” Aziraphale gasped and clasped his hands over Raphael’s mouth.

“Don’t say that. It’s blasphemous.”

“Oh screw that,” Raphael turned to the sky, “Why would you let that happen to Aziraphale? What did he ever do to you?” Raphael was shaking now. With rage or nervousness, Aziraphale couldn’t tell, he hushed Raphael.

“Don’t anger Her for me,” Aziraphale didn’t feel Raphael deserved to suffer the consequences of defending him, a defense he really didn’t deserve. He had done something wrong, he hadn’t asked what, but it was something, he deserved to have his extra set of wings removed. Besides, being a Principality suited him better, he was more free, and he hardly saw any angels higher ranking than the Virtues, he wouldn’t have met Raphael if he was still a Cherubim. It was just part of Her plan.

Still shaking, Raphael sat down and pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face between them, Aziraphale joined him on the ground. The two of them sat like that for a very long time, maybe the rest of the Heavenly day and into the night. Eventually, Aziraphale inched closer to Raphael and wrapped a wing around him, “We both need sleep,” he said.

“Angels don’t need sleep,” Raphael protested, hardly looking up.

“You do. I can tell,” Aziraphale brought Raphael to his feet and kissed him gently, “Seven.” Raphael gripped his face and made it eight, only eight lasted quite a long time, and hands went places hands had not been before.

If Aziraphale was honest, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he looked like disrobed, nor did he know about any other angel’s body. He had an idea, but he hadn’t really been  _ naked _ since his birth day. Angels didn’t need to bathe, really, so Aziraphale didn’t, as he saw no point in stripping down in front of others for something that wasn’t necessary. He did see a bit of a point in disrobing now, though. 

Angels are sexless unless they choose to make the effort, and as Raphael pressed kisses on Aziraphale’s spine and he could hardly stop himself from yelping, Aziraphale decided that this feeling was worth the effort. Raphael lost count of kisses at around fifty, too distracted by Aziraphale’s hands to focus on numbers. Eventually, robes had to come back on, and they had to sleep again, having actually exhausted themselves, they curled in their hammock, wings wrapped around one another, hands in each other’s hair.

Aziraphale felt himself being shaken awake, “Aziraphale, something is going on,” Raphael whispered harshly. Aziraphale blinked groggily and pet his hair, he could feel it standing up in the back. “You have to get up, we have to leave,” Raphael grabbed his arm, gripping tight, “You can’t let your feet touch the ground.”

“Why? What’s-” Aziraphale stopped dead in his tracks as a shrill scream rang through Heaven, “What was that?” He demanded. It sounded like, who did it sound like? Maybe Uriel, Aziraphale’s wings nearly failed him at the thought, Uriel was a good angel, he liked Uriel. She was certainly not nice to Aziraphale, but she was one of the few who was pleasant in his general direction. Other than Raphael, of course.

“I think that was Dagon,” Raphael dragged Aziraphale upwards, an angel’s way of laying low. Aziraphale let himself be guided to the grand hall of Heaven and nearly regurgitated food he’d never eaten.

A Cherubim named Anniel, one of the few Cherubims that had defended Aziraphale before his demotion, was laid on the ground, silver spilling out of her chest and her glassy eyes. Aziraphale had to resist the urge to fly down and pick up her limp body and brush the red blood from her dark hair. Across the hall was a young angel Isradiel, she was supposed to be a Guardian, Aziraphale had helped her create dogs, and now she was laying dead, supported only on the black sword that was run through her stomach. 

Beelzebub was the first angel to go down, the, now silver, marble floors turned to liquid beneath them, Hastur ran for them, Beelzebub attempting to stay afloat, parts of water that Beelzebub had glided through were just walked on top of by angels. Beelzebub flailed in the water, eyes bulging from their sockets as air left their lungs, filled with liquid marble and holy bloodshed. Rilael ran for Hastur, who was attempting to pull Beelzebub’s un-moving body from the water, Hastur whipped around and a knife plunged into the Throne’s heart, his double wings faltered as his whole body went stiff. The ground liquified under Hastur’s feet, and, he too, flailed about until he was blue in the face, his face coated in hot red blood, body floating in solid marble.

Aziraphale gripped Raphael’s hand as tight as possible, he whipped around to see Michael coated in red and silver, barreling toward them, holy rapier pointed, white knuckles wrapped around the intricate handle.

“Michael!” Aziraphale was foolish enough to think that saying the Archangel’s name was going to stop her from ripping Raphael from his grasp, pushing him to the ground. Raphael kicked and screamed, horrible and blood-curdling, his wings trying to fight back against Michael’s power.

Raphael attempted to make comprehensible words with Michael’s hands wrapped around his throat, all he could manage was, “Azira-” he choked, “Stay ther-” his head crashed into the ground. Aziraphale had never heard bones break, he had only ever healed them, but he assumed that was the crunch that came as Raphael was ground into the marble by Michael.

“Traitor!” she screeched, “Why won’t you go down?” Raphael made a choked sound and reached for Michael’s foot as it collided with his face, dragging her to the ground. On her way down, Michael scratched Raphael’s face with her nails, silver streamed down his cheeks as he twisted her body around to stand on top of her. 

Aziraphale wanted to scream or dive down to his partner but the only part of his body that had the ability to move was his wings, just enough to keep him afloat. Michael writhed under Raphael, pointing her sword at him, he grabbed it by the rounded part at its base, and in her shock Michael let go for a split second, letting Raphael pull the rapier from her grip. Aziraphale let out a breath of relief, interrupted by a sharp pain across his arm, he turned to see the Cherubim Aradael brandishing a rapier, pointing it straight at his throat.

“Aradael,” Aziraphale pleaded, eyeing Raphael out of the corner of his eye, “I think we should all just sit down and talk, or-“

“Don’t lecture me, Principality,” Aradael spat, “You already lost your first set of wings, you’d do us all a favor by losing the other set.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any angels with names you dont recognize are made up by me nd my wonderful friends. next chapter is gonna be even more angsty he he he (also never really written anything like this so, thoughts?)


	4. dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael defends Aziraphale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i've been gone. i've wanted to write this chapter but i hate writing confrontational scenes jhja.time to hop on the angst train. choo choo

Raphael pointed the rapier at Michael’s throat, the glint in her eyes begging him to plunge it forward, he couldn’t, though. He delivered a kick to Michael's side and turned his gaze to where he’d last seen him, Raphael was not normally one to swear, but he did. If Aziraphale had been able to hear it, he would have berated Raphael and slapped him on the arm or the back of his head. But Aziraphale was not close enough to hear, and that was the problem. 

Honestly, Raphael did not know how to use a rapier, or any blade, he had a general idea, he’d gone through basic training, but he was often skipping angelic lessons, something he very much regretted now. He didn’t regret skipping harp class, though, that would never be useful. 

The Archangel flew up and studied the angel threatening Aziraphale, she had two sets of wings, that would make an attack at her back more difficult. Raphael had never met this angel before, he didn’t know many angels ranking above himself, they didn’t often like to fraternize with him, but that was fine. He would prefer not attacking an angel he knew.

“Hey, angel!” Raphael called, the angel turned and he regretted his decision, but he spoke again, perhaps involuntarily, “Get off of him.” The angel flapped her wings angrily and directed the rapier at Raphael’s chest. Raphael felt his heart attempting to leap from his chest, maybe into the safety of Aziraphale’s arms, he wanted very much to do the same thing, but this had to be dealt with.

The angel lunged at Raphael, he jerked back and began mirroring her. If there was something he was good at, it was imitating his opponent, she moved forward, he went back. Only mirrors are supposed to look like you, and the double set of falcon’s wings and blue eyes certainly wasn’t anything close to Raphael. There wasn’t much angelic about either of them but in opposite ways. The fury behind her eyes outmatched the curiosity that sat in Raphael’s, she was sharp like Raphael, but the sharpness was hidden under exquisite robes and perfectly groomed gray wings.

Raphael spent too much time studying the way her body moved to realize she’d made a move he didn’t imitate, the rapier catching on his robes, very nearly turning them silver. The Cherubim, as Raphael now knew she was based on the badge on her shoulder, said something that he didn’t process, too busy thinking about how high and mighty she sounded as she said it. Her tone implied that only one of them was to make it out of this alive, and it was going to be her.

“Oh, bugger off,” the Archangel said and found himself flying upwards, the Cherubim smiled smugly like she’d won their little duel. The smile fell off her face when Raphael was nose-diving towards her, arm out, eyes squeezed shut. He couldn’t bear to watch what he knew was going to happen. 

A blood-curdling scream filled Heaven’s halls, cracking a marble column and scaring away half-made animals, including the animals some angels had made for fun. Like the jackalope Jordael had made as a joke one day, it ran over its creator’s dead body, tracking tiny silver paw prints over the angel’s blue wings. Raphael held back a cry himself as he felt the wind fill into the now-empty space beneath him, he let the rapier drop from his grip, it clinked to the floor seconds after the thump of heavy feathers landing. 

Raphael’s wings faltered for a moment before he caught himself, he couldn’t touch the ground, not now. If we could just fly for the rest of eternity, he would be alright. Right?  _ Aziraphale _ he thought and searched for those white wings. Contrary to popular belief, not all angels have pure white wings, so it was easy to find him.

When Raphael spotted his companion, he rushed over as fast as his weak wings would take him, Aziraphale did the same and the two met in the middle, arms wrapping around one another. Raphael cupped Aziraphale’s face and kissed him for what he knew was more than the fiftieth time, but this felt different. They pulled away for a moment, Aziraphale pressed his forehead into Raphael’s and a tear ran down his cheek, followed by a second, and then a pure flood. Raphael felt the same happen to him, and pulled Aziraphale away from Heaven’s center hall, in no particular direction.

That path led to a place neither of them should be, sat in an apple tree in the almost-finished Eden, hiding amongst the leaves, listening to the waterfall and the chirping of the birds. The crying had finally stopped, after however long, for all the two of them knew there was still a war on, but they were just fine there, safe. Raphael pressed Aziraphale up against a branch that was weaker than he’d expected, Aziraphale tumbled to the ground and laughed, gesturing for Raphael to join him. Raphael came down and sat on Aziraphale’s lap, still afraid to touch the ground, even if what he’d done seemed like the right thing to do, it felt  _ wrong _ . 

He supposed that kissing Aziraphale felt right at least, still not letting any part of him touch the ground, Raphael pressed Aziraphale down. Aziraphale grabbed Raphael’s shoulders and rolled him over to press himself down onto the Archangel.

The ground wasn’t solid anymore, Raphael felt himself sinking, his wings felt numb all over with a sharp tingle at the base, spreading through the rest of his body. His veins grew hot as he flailed around in the grass-water. Now he was in it, it was less like water, more like milk, just a little thicker, but as some got in his mouth it was sour. Not sour as in the opposite of sweet, it was just an awful taste, he spat the ‘water’ out and coughed. 

Tears stung his eyes, really stung, like lemon juice squeezed into his eyes, he tried to blink it away but it only added a red haze to everything around him, including Aziraphale, who was inaudibly screaming. Actually, everything was inaudible. 

“I can’t hear anything!” Raphael shrieked, clawing at Aziraphale, who was clawing just as hard at him. Silver tears rolled onto Raphael’s arms, he cried out as the tears landed on newly opened wounds, smoke rose where red and silver blood met. Raphael tried to lift his wings from the substance around him, but he couldn’t, he’d lost feeling in them, his other limbs were starting to feel the same.

Aziraphale grabbed Raphael by the robes, and they came right off him, passing through his body, it felt like he was being sliced open where they went through, he screamed again. Something was crawling under Raphael’s skin, making room for itself in his body by pushing blood out of every opening it could, screams came out of his mouth as the something settled in his stomach, weighing him down like he’d eaten a heavy rock. 

Aziraphale cupped Raphael’s face and kissed him, but even that felt painful. Less painful than everything else, so he embraced it, he told himself that maybe love could pull him out of the ground. Aziraphale had a similar thought and pulled away, putting his hands on Raphael’s arms, clinging so hard his entire hands turned white, flying up.

Raphael screamed, “Aziraphale, no,” he coughed as more of the ‘water’ entered his mouth. The only sound Raphael could hear was a strange, pulsating, ring in his ears, but Aziraphale mouthed something, it was clear by his body language he was shouting it. Raphael couldn’t read lips and only cried more, his arms growing more numb. “Stay here,” was all Raphael could manage before his whole body went numb, while somehow still feeling tiny pinpricks of pain all over him, and sank down. Every place where his golden freckles sat a new pinprick of paint shot out of him, a similar, more concentrated pain, stung his eyes, making him cry more, only making it sting more.

Raphael had only felt fire a few times in his existence, and they had been pleasant, the stars burned sometimes if you held them too long, but all it did was leave calluses on your palms for a bit. This wasn’t touching fire, this was on fire, Raphael brought his hands to his eyes, dragging his eyelids open, only they already were. It was all black he brought his wings in front of him, he should be able to see them if they’re on fire. 

He could hear now, he could hear the sizzling of his flesh and the pop and crackle of his feathers. He could hear his own screams, but they began to fade as his throat grew weak, something that had never happened before. Angel’s throats didn’t grow weak, they hardly grew weak at all. But Raphael was weak all over. 

After God knows how long, Raphael grew closer to something, black faded to deep purple, a dark ceiling lit by flame, as he fell farther and farther he head screaming other than his own. Some were in pain and some of it was a sadistic cackling, the rest was a mixture of the two. As Raphael moved down, past seven rows of ex-angels staring at him, he realized he was naked, he wrapped his wings around himself, only burning his chest and arms. Raphael yelped and spread his wings out, still attempting to cover himself with his hands, he was starting to have feeling in them again.

Raphael finally landed in a pool of boiling sulfur, grateful to hear the sizzle of his wings’ flame going out, he crawled onto the hard ground, cold to the touch for the first moment, then almost unbearably hot, he could hardly feel it. He stood on shaky legs, covering himself with his wings, he looked around at all the ex-angels, Hastur and Ligur snickered at the horrified look on Raphael’s face. 

“Raphael,” a familiar voice drawled, “How kind of you to join us.”

Raphael cringed at the use of the name, he turned to Lucifer, “‘M, not Raphael anymore,” he mumbled, “Crawley.” He deserved a name like Crawley, he felt a desire to crawl across the ground, this was all his fault.

“Crawley,” said Lucifer, “We should get you some clothes.” Crawley flew up to get his feet off the burning ground, he could feel the ends of his feathers pressing into his muscles, bones shifting and cracking, he let himself fall back to the ground. Lucifer led Crawley somewhere, he wasn’t paying attention, occasionally Lucifer would say something and Crawley would only nod. Crawley got a shower of some sort, the water never the same temperature for more than a second, just to wash soot and sulfur off.

In some corner of this new place, Hell, Crawley pulled on a set of black robes, the fabric was a cheap imitation of the robes of Heaven, scratching and catching on Crawley’s scabs, he’d gotten a salve for them but he felt he wanted them to scar over. A reminder of what he did wrong.

“Lucifer?” Raphael asked when he had strength enough.

“Hm?”

“What happened?”

“You were cast out of Heaven. Apparently, you killed some Cherubim named Ardael. Well done. Commendable work, really,” Lucifer flexed his wings, “We’re  _ demons _ now. Having a war with Heaven at some point, bring about some demon child, he’ll cause the end of the world.” Crawley’s jaw dropped all that hard work, just gone. 

All of  _ Aziraphale’s _ hard work. Aziraphale wanted to be on Earth, it couldn’t just- end. Crawley wanted to ask what got Lucifer thrown out, but he knew that he shouldn't push. 

“You’ll be getting ready for your first job soon,” Lucifer told Crawley, “Just go up there and make some trouble. Tempt man-kind or something.”

“Up?”

“To Earth, we’re infiltrating Eden. I told you that.”

Crawley nodded, “Right yeah. Sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> went to a hozier concert last night also. god it was fucking amazing and he played from eden. also i fainted so i took that and used some of how it felt here


	5. Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawley goes up, Aziraphale heads down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this took so long, i got awful writers block

It took Aziraphale two weeks to leave Eden. Previously, only angels ranking higher than Powers hadn’t been allowed to work in Eden, and lower than Archangels couldn’t even be there, now Principalities and Guardians were allowed to work. After two days of having angels working around him, Aziraphale stood on stiff legs and wandered away, decidedly not in the direction of where he would have gone two weeks ago. 

Heaven’s halls had to end eventually, they couldn’t all be inside, and that was where the Principality now found himself. The marble floors turned to clouds, and the air grew warm and humid. Aziraphale stepped forward, expecting to fall through the clouds, he’d been there when they were made, and he had passed through them before. These clouds were slightly different, his foot still sank into them, but landed on something solid, he smiled and flew upwards, then pulled his wings close to his body to let himself fall into the clouds.

_ Puff _ , the clouds went as he landed, Aziraphale giggled and fluttered his wings. Raphael would have enjoyed this, Aziraphale thought, and the clouds turned silver.

*

Crawley had begun to favor the form of a snake in Hell, it suited him more, though he often found himself picked up or tripped over. Time in Hell passed strangely, perhaps it was the lack of light, or how  _ crowded _ it was. Crawley hadn’t liked how empty Heaven was, but being shoved together with beings he hadn’t liked when they at least tried to be nice, was certainly not favorable. However long he had been in Hell, felt much longer than it should have been.

“Crawley,” someone picked the snake up with a rough hand, he hissed and writhed, “Crawley, we’re getting ready.”

“Lussssifer,” Crawley hissed, “Let me down,” Lucifer gave Crawley a pointed look, “Pleassse.” The demon dropped Crawley, if he’d had eyelids he would have blinked in surprise, though he shouldn’t have been surprised, there was no reason not to expect being dropped. Crawley stood, letting his scales soften, for the most part, these days he had taken a liking to leave some scales on his vulnerable areas, like his stomach. The light iridescence of them was an added bonus.

“You’ll have to go back into that other form in a bit, Crawley, it’s almost time,” Lucifer put his bat’s wings out a bit, he tended to do that when addressing anyone directly, he thought it made him look more intimidating. Crawley mirrored him, despite the lingering soreness of his wings, Dagon had told him keeping the feathers separate would help them heal better. What did she know, though? Her wings were permanently damaged, and she didn’t even have feathers. 

Few demons preferred to have their wings out, most of them had attempted to fly back to Heaven, Crawley hadn’t witnessed that but he did help clean up the fallen feathers, hear the breaking of bones and feel hot red blood land on him. The demons that did keep their wings out took great pride in them, always preening, shining, normally presenting them to the world. Well, not the  _ world _ , their version of it. 

Crawley had not cared for his wings very well in Heaven, though Aziraphale had been a nervous preener, and would sometimes insist that he groom the other set of swan’s wings in Heaven when he had over-done his own.

“Time for what?” Crawley brought a wing in front of himself and picked at a sooty feather.

Lucifer smacked him sharply on the side of the head, “Can you get anything through that thick head of yours?  _ Heaven _ ,” he spat the word as if it was as dirty as his hair, which was quite dirty, “Is sending their own agents to Earth, you will be ours.”

“Jusst me?” Crawley hissed, then corrected himself, “Just me?”

“Nobody else wants to spend more than a week up there,” Lucifer threw up his hands, “Not with all those angels walking about.”

“You say that as if you weren’t an angel yourself,” Crawley jumped backward as Lucifer’s large hand came at him, “I’m just saying.”

“Well, don’t  _ say it _ ,” Lucifer huffed and walked away, a very common sight in Hell. Lucifer didn’t approach things, he let them come to him, but he was the one to walk away from whatever situation it was.

*

Jealousy was unangelic, Aziraphale knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel a little twinge of it in his heart as Uriel put her golden eagle’s wing above Michael (despite her having a matching set of her own), shielding her from a new thing being unveiled by the Seraphim that they had just finished working on with Her,  _ rain _ . It was only water from the sky, Aziraphale had enjoyed the snow more, but he did wish he had somebody to do that for, or somebody to do it for him. Just a small gesture, really, but a  _ gesture _ all the same. 

Aziraphale convinced himself that this jealousy was just because he was cold and was being petty, not because he could see other angels in love and he’d had that taken from him. Michael kissed Uriel’s cheek and that conviction was questioned for a brief moment. 

“Aziraphale, are you ready?” asked a Throne with a funny beard, Aziraphale had forgotten his name.

“What? Oh- oh yes. Very ready, guarding the Eastern Gate,” Aziraphale puffed out his chest and straightened his robes.

“Hold out your hands, boy.”

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale was certainly no  _ boy _ , not with that tone at least.

“Your hands. Hold them out,” the Throne commanded, Aziraphale did as he was told, not breaking eye contact. The sword placed in his hands was ridiculously heavy, normally angels used rapiers, and he hardly knew how to handle those. Weight itself was not much of a problem, it was more the balance of the weapon, he looked down at the sword, curly writing all over it.

“ _ Don’t mock me _ ,” Aziraphale whispered to the writing, he had been able to read it at one point, that was revoked along with his second set of wings. He was the only angel guarding Eden that wasn’t a Cherubim, it was simultaneously over-joying and depressing. Most everybody knew that Aziraphale had always been set to guard Eden with his Cherubim siblings, it half felt as if keeping this job as a Principality was making a fool of him.

*

Crawley broke through the grassy ground of Eden, slithering towards the beautiful young woman, reportedly Eve, but his sources weren’t very trustworthy. Eve didn’t speak, or understand any language, she and Adam mostly gesticulated every communication, but she understood a few words, spoken in every language that would ever exist, all at once.

“Eat the apple,” Crawley hissed in her ear, twitching at the hair tickling his nose, “Eat it.”

Eve made a sound and gesture, translating to “The Lord told me I shouldn’t.”

“I will be back tomorrow,” Crawley said and left, figuring he might as well explore the Garden while he was here. He lingered at the forget-me-nots in a familiar spot beneath the apple tree.

The snake attempted to nap in a large bush of lavender, the scent of it was relaxing but he was far too cold, so he moved to a rock in the sunlight. Crawley was not often cold, demonic blood was always near bubbling, which made another good reason to change to a snake. The feeling of the cool against one’s skin rather than the constant heat of hellfire emanating from your core.

The next day, he was up early enough to watch the morning glories die, he didn’t enjoy that they wilted so soon after blooming, but they were beautiful beforehand. Aziraphale had, at one point, said that the flowers were pretty enough to want to get up early for, his counterpart had said something about another sight of the morning. If snakes had eyelids, Crawley would have blinked the memory away.

Crawley tempted Eve again, she seemed to have taken more of a liking to the idea, but still denied the offer of the serpent. The rest of that day was spent watching a flame and a set of white feathers that moved about everywhere, occasionally lifting their owner slightly off the ground. At one point they saved him from falling face-first into the Garden when he had been leaning too far over the wall.

On the third day, Eve was convinced, and Crawley sat in the tree to pick out the perfect apple for her. If the girl was going to commit the first sin of man, it might as well be a sin that tastes nice.

He had made some trouble, as instructed, and now he could do as he pleased. Crawley was a demon, they were supposed to do as they pleased, so long as it  _ dis _ pleased The Almighty.

*

Aziraphale spent the first six days in Eden adjusting to his sword and constantly looking behind him nervously. Behind him was what he was actually supposed to be looking at, he instead stared into the Garden, watching all of the creatures roam about, only looking away fully when he accidentally witnessed an intimate moment.

“Oh, that serpent looks just like the one Raphael made,” the Principality said to the bird beside him, it squawked in reply and Aziraphale buried his hands in his face, “Oh I’m talking to a bird.” He plucked a rain flower growing in the cracks of the wall, twirling its stem in his fingers, before discarding its petals one by one. 

Lightning crashed above him, though there was no rain, he’d been told they went hand in hand, Aziraphale instantly stood up and faced the direction he was supposed to, holding his sword diligently.

*

Flower petals fell in front of Crawley, he craned his neck upwards to look where a distressed angel sat. Lighting crashed nearby. “That would be my doing,” said the serpent, before he slithered into a weeping willow surrounded by rain flowers, he had made the colors up for them, though he thought they should be called rain lilies. Either way, Crawley sat out the wrath of God in the tree, bough shaking in the fierce wind. Going back to Hell was always an option, but certainly not one he, or anybody with a semblance of sanity, would choose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik this chapter was a bit shorter than the others but next chapter will be The Wall Scene eeee


	6. lead balloon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Serpent meets The Guardian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i took so long to update im sorry! the next few chapters are gonna be like this, extensions on canonical history

Crawley slithered out of the tree and through the flowers to where he had seen that angel yesterday, the familiar flame missing. He let his scales melt away, keeping some on his vulnerable spots, he never really did go fully human in corporeal form. “Well, that went down like a lead balloon,” he muttered, he’d meant it to be louder but his tongue felt a bit numb, he told himself it was due from serpentine to human transformation.

The angel smiled and made an almost laugh sound, “Sorry, what was that?” This was certainly Aziraphale, no other angel had those eyes.

“I said, well that went down like a lead balloon.”

“Yes-yes. It did, rather.”

“Bit of an over-reaction if you ask me,” Crawley shrugged, “First offense and everything,” he looked Aziraphale up and down, before turning his attention back to the approaching storm clouds, “I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway”

“Well it must be bad-” Aziraphale searched for a name for this demon. The demon looked almost like Raphael, something was off about him though, the hair was shorter, and needed a good brushing through.

“Crawley,” the demon supplied.

“Crawley- Otherwise… you wouldn't have tempted them into it.”

“Oh they just said, ‘get up there and make some trouble’,” Crawley flexed his wings uncomfortably.

“Well obviously, you’re a demon,” Aziraphale snuck a glance at Crawley, staring was rude, “It’s what you do.”

“Not very subtle of The Almighty, though. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a don’t touch sign,” not very subtle of Crawley, “I mean, why not put it on the top of a high mountain? Or on the moon? Makes you wonder what God’s really planning.”

“Best not to speculate,” the angel crossed his hands in front of him, “It’s all part of the Great Plan. It’s not for us to understand. It’s ineffable.” Such an Aziraphale thing to say.

“The Great Plan’s  _ ineffable? _ ”

“Exactly, it is beyond understanding, and incapable of being put into words-” Aziraphale was about to go on a tangent, as much as Crawley would have enjoyed listening to the angel talk, he would prefer a long talk about something other than The Great Plan.   
The demon interrupted Aziraphale, “Didn’t you have a flaming sword?”

“Erm.”

“You did, it was flaming like anything. What happened to it?”

“Erm.”

“Lost it already, have you?”

“Gave it away,” Aziraphale muttered, looking at his feet. A human would not have been able to hear it, but Crawley was not a human.

“You  _ what _ ?”

“I gave it away!” Aziraphale exclaimed, “There are  _ vicious animals _ , it’s going to be cold out there, and she’s expecting already. And I said “Here you go; flaming sword don’t thank me. And don’t let the sun go down on you here.” I do hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.”

“Oh you’re an angel,” Crawley said, “I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.”

“Oh- oh thank- oh thank you,” there was that wonderful smile he’d known so well, “It’s been bothering me.”

The beings turned, Adam was slashing his sword at a lion, Eve screeched and held her belly. Crawley frowned, the lion shouldn’t have been out in all that sand, with a mane like that, he’d get too hot.

“I’ve been worrying, too. What if I did the right thing with that whole ‘eat the apple’ business? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing,” he paused, “It’d be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one.”

The angel giggled, before his eyes widened in Crawley’s direction, “ _ No _ . ‘T wouldn’t be funny at all.”

“Well…” Crawley was cut off by a crash of thunder, water started to fall from the sky, in Hell he’d been told that it was going to be holy water. As much as he didn’t trust the other demons, his wings bristled at the thought. Aziraphale must have sensed something, and lifted his wing to shield his companion from the rain, droplets rolling off his waxy feathers.

“The water isn’t holy, don’t worry,” he said as Crawley shimmied a bit closer to him, “Just plain water,” Aziraphale reached his wet hand towards Crawley. 

The demon screeched and jerked away, stumbling over himself, he fell onto the ground into a developing puddle. Crawley screeched again, expecting to be filled with a sharp burn, the only one he felt was the burn where he’d scratched his palms on the stone wall. Aziraphale laughed awkwardly.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Aziraphale made a move to help Crawley up, but played it off as stretching his arm, he shouldn’t even be interacting with this demon, let alone helping him up. “I’m an angel, we do not lie.” Crawley groaned, he would have flown off if he knew his wings were reliable, but he had not tried them yet, he would not embarrass himself in front of Aziraphale twice.

They parted ways the next morning, Crawley disappeared beneath the warm sand.

The angel and demon spent nearly one thousand years meeting in passing, not much to do with just the one developing city, the two of them did had paperwork in their respective home offices, but they had both miraculously been there when humans discovered fermented fruit. That had been an interesting year, with quite a few stories to tell, though neither of them remembered it, and literacy had hardly been invented.

In 3004, Crawley had found out that Heaven wasn’t above drowning children, he figured saving children from the flood could be considered demonic work, so long as it went against The Almighty.

The rain had started yesterday, Crawley was over the fear of it, but now it was rising, and he didn’t really enjoy the feeling of being submerged in liquid, of any type, but water he knew was drowning everyone on Earth was certainly not preferable. The demon knew what drowning felt like, and it was not a pleasant experience. He supposed that some of the humans would find themselves in Heaven once they’d drowned, but the rest would end up very similar to Crawley, save for the ability to  _ leave _ . A fate he felt children didn’t deserve, even if they tugged at his braids and sang obnoxiously.

The humans had started to make their way to high ground, and Crawley tried his damned hardest to help them build boats or anything sturdy. When the water was getting too high, Crawley ducked into a feminine form, figuring a more maternal figure would comfort the children. Normally, she would dress in all black, but knowing she would be unfurling big black wings and carrying children away, a deep shade of blue seemed more appropriate.

Crawley took a moment to let her wings out, wincing as the feathers separated, she should have done this a few days ago, the demon flexed her wings with minor struggle. Thinking back to learning how to fly, she latched her arms onto a tree branch and let her feet off the ground, much of her weight still relying on her arms. Tears welled in her eyes at the effort, but her arms were off of the branch and her weight was supported fully by her wings. 

It was a very strange feeling, flying for the first time in one-thousand years, something close to being on land for the first time after a day on a boat, your legs still swaying with non-existent waves, still feeling like you could make a wrong move and tumble into the water. Crawley had expected her flight to be hindered in the rain, but if anything, the cold water helped soothe the burning she’d felt every moment since she’d Fallen, a burning in an invisible limb, but a burning nonetheless.

Six, six was the most children Crawley could carry at once, two on her back, four in her arms, all clinging on desperately, all crying. 

“Shh, it’s alright, dears,” Crawley soothed as she swooped down to grab the doll Aliza had dropped into the water, the girl smiled with the doll back in her arms, and Crawley smiled as well. A desperate hand clawed at Crawley’s foot, she jerked to the side to avoid it, guilt dropping a pit into her stomach as the hand disappeared into the water. 

The pit in her stomach swelled as she felt the tiny fingers digging into her shoulder slip down. She wiggled her shoulders, trying to give the hands a better grip. Crawley was not one for panic, but this was the closest she'd felt to it in centuries.

“Cohen, hold on,” Crawley pleaded, she felt the boy's legs dig into her hips to hoist himself up. “David please help hi-”

The extra set of fingers had left her shoulders.

“Cohen!” Aliza called to her brother, her doll following him into the water, a tiny splatter next to the waves around the boy’s body, he flailed and choked. Crawley pinched back the blood in her eyes and debated for a moment what to do. She couldn't fly down and pick him up, but that really felt like the only good option, she took the only thing that could relieve him. With the wiggle of Crawley’s finger, the boy's body went limp and his eyes closed, he sunk beneath the water, that had grown ever so slightly higher with tears.

Noah’s Ark was rising with the water, people struggled to stay afloat, some grabbing to the boat, others uselessly paddling about, a shakily familiar sight to Aziraphale. The angel had made his way onto the boat, Crawley had been invited to join him, but the demon refused. Aziraphale’s company was kept by the male rabbit on the Ark, a little white creature that nipped at everyone else that didn’t seem to mind Aziraphale, he tended to have that effect on animals.

The rain had ebbed away to a drizzle, and the sun was beginning to set, its reflection on the water would have been nice save for the debris strewn about it. In this reflection, was a set of black wings, similar to Aziraphale’s own, except for the sparse arrangement of the damaged feathers. Attached to the wings was Crawley, and in her arms were four small children, clinging to each other as well as the demon for dear life, one gripping hard to her back.

Crawley sped towards the Ark, landing on its surface and setting the weeping children down, the youngest boy, a year old at most, began to toddle off, calling for his mother. “Abraham!” called an older girl with those same brown eyes, presumably an older sister. Those two were lucky, at least some of their family was together, the other three looked utterly lost, the youngest girl clung to Crawley’s leg, muttering something about her doll. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at the demon and her children, Crawley rolled her eyes and Aziraphale disturbed the rabbit in his lap by making a gesture with his hands. 

The girl returned with Abraham and Crawley led them below deck, hushing them, reminding them that Noah’s only unmarried son was their father, and somehow Noah’s unmarried son remembered he had a wife with red hair and five children that looked nothing like either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suggestions for events in history youd like to see them in are welcome by the way. also. what are names. i wanted to name the kids but i also couldnt find any mesopotamian names so. they all got jewish names

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for the angst, comments are appreciated, keep me writing


End file.
